


Between the Trees

by cloverfield



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Angst, Emotional Decompression, Implied Character Death, M/M, Missing Scene, Outo Arc, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22146223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: “You thought I was dead,” continues Fai, and it is disgusting that he can even joke about it, can even pretend that the thought of his own death pleases him. “You thought I was dead and youmournedme, thought to avenge me–”“If you don’t shut up,” says Kurogane, growling through the grit of his teeth, “you’re going to die for a second time.”
Relationships: Fay D. Fluorite/Kurogane
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	Between the Trees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whosthathufflepuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whosthathufflepuff/gifts).



> I've been following completeoveranalysis' liveblogging of TRC since its inception, and it is an absolute scream; Nick brings a fascinating amount of analysis to every scene. This was written as a extrapolation of what might have happened if Kurogane had been given a chance for some emotional decompression following the quick transition between Outo, Edonis and the new world and the realisation that Fai and Syaoran were not dead at Seishirou's hands.

“I could kill you now and no-one would ever know,” Kurogane hisses, and without thought his hand snaps out to snag a handful of that stupid fluffy coat and haul Fai forward, the mage stumbling over the heavy roots that snake through leaf litter and dark soil like half-buried serpents, the manjuu squeaking in alarm as she bounces free of Fai’s shoulder and ricochets down to the ground.

He didn’t mean to do it, but he did it and now it’s done: Fai trembles up on the tips of his toes where Kurogane’s fist knots in the fur lining of his collar, and his fluttering hands come up to clasp Kurogane’s wrist as something like shock widens blue ( _blue, blue_) eyes, his mouth falling open and his breath huffing into a stutter as it quickens. It’s not quite fear, and that just makes Kurogane angrier; Fai _should_ be afraid of him, should be _fucking terrified_ , and not just because a man like Kurogane could snap his skinny neck like a twig with barely any effort at all.

There’s a long moment ( _a handful of heartbeats_ ) where Fai is stunned and speechless, his face open and vulnerable in all the ways he tries to hide – but it is only for a moment, and then he _smiles_ , and it is the kind of smile that Kurogane hates the most. “You _were_ sad,” says Fai, as though this is a revelation, and he sounds pleased, sly and unctuous and utterly like the bastard Kurogane knows him to be under that soft, lying skin. This man is not to be taken lightly, no matter his flitting mannerisms and his sing-song words; this man is dangerous too ( _and it should not thrill him so but it does, it does_).

“You thought I was dead,” continues Fai, and it is _disgusting_ that he can even joke about it, can even pretend that the thought of his own death pleases him. “You thought I was dead and you _mourned_ me, thought to avenge me–”

“If you don’t shut up,” says Kurogane, growling through the grit of his teeth, “you’re going to die for a second time.” He means it, and never mind the wailing protests from the manjuu bouncing through the leaves as she circles this strange tableau they have made. His pulse is thudding in his head, a hotly pounding drumbeat; his throat is tight, words like gravel scraping out across his tongue. There had been nothing left of the mage in the wind-swept lobby of the café; leaves and dirt and branches on the tiles where they’d blown in through the open door, the princess sleeping peacefully beneath the fluttering curtains and the manjuu crying over a torn ribbon that had been so very red when Kurogane pried it gently from her grip.

( _there are things he does not think about, and he had seen them so clear in that scrap of red spilling through his fingers_ )

Fai blinks at him, slowly. His eyelashes are pale and thick and soft, fluttering gently to shadow blue eyes, shade them down to thin slits of burning colour that are sharp enough to cut Kurogane open, and in that gaze he knows Fai sees too much of the things Kurogane keeps to himself. To watch someone is to be watched as well, and he knows that. “Someone like you should not be sad for someone like me,” says Fai, head lolling to the side and his mouth turning downwards unhappily, the way it sometimes does when he thinks no-one can see.

“I wasn’t sad for _you_ ,” snarls Kurogane, and it is a _lie_ , and he fucking hates lies. “I was sad for the kids.” That’s not a lie, and he takes it and runs with it. “They care about you, gods only know why, and you’re not completely fucking useless, so. They would have missed you. The kid _did_ miss you.”

Enough to march off into a battle he could not win, child’s hands tight on a sword he was not ready to wield. And Kurogane had let him go to his death, knowing why and how Syaoran chose to do this thing, and knowing also that there would be another name to avenge come sundown. Had fought his way out of the café’s collapsing ruins, through fire and demons with the princess lying so still and helpless in his arms, the manjuu clinging to his clothes and his heart heavy with the knowledge that they were now the only ones left.

And then one world had become two, colliding, and Kurogane had seen murder in the face of a man with one glass eye and known he might slake some of that raging thirst for vengeance and blood no matter the cost to his strength. He’d felt battle screaming beneath his skin ( _rage and pain and sorrow, and he had left his tears behind years and years ago_ ) but suddenly the kid and the mage _weren’t_ gone, both of them; they had survived even death and all of Outo had been a lie, a phantom, some fragment of light and sound that dissolved in the daylight like a dream. The demons had been real though, as much as they had not been alive, and the man with the glass eye a thief, the princess’ feather stolen and snatched away even as the ruins of the country of cherry blossoms had crumbled and blurred around them.

People had died –people he had started to care about, even in spite of knowing it was a bad idea to care at all– and then they _hadn’t_ , back from the dead as though they’d never gone, and before he could even have the chance to tell up from down and real from dream, the manjuu had swallowed them all up into another world entirely.

His fingers twitch, fur lining soft in his grip, and Fai’s hands curled around his wrist are painfully gentle. “This hasn’t been fun for you,” says Fai quietly, and yeah, _that’s_ a fucking understatement. It’s not an apology either, not one out loud at least, but maybe Fai’s mask is cracking just a bit, because he can see regret in blue where before there was only shadows. “Kuro-tan has a right to be angry.”

“Don’t call me that,” snaps Kurogane, and lets go of Fai’s coat; yanks his arm back enough that the mage drops down to the ground once more. “We need to find the kids.” He walks off, too angry ( _not angry, the other thing, the thing that he just said he wasn’t_) to even look back, and it doesn’t matter anyway; he hears Fai’s footsteps behind him soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot recommend completeoveranalysis' tumblr liveblog enough. Go read it people, it's fantastic. But please, for the love of CLAMP, don't spoiler him \- he's not read the series before and half the fun is in seeing his reactions to what fresh hell is coming next.


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